


Haunted

by Mireille



Category: Buffy the Vampire Slayer
Genre: Community: femslash_minis, F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-01-13
Updated: 2008-01-13
Packaged: 2019-03-21 02:23:09
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,629
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13731117
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mireille/pseuds/Mireille
Summary: Right now, though, ghost or not, this looks like a decent place to spend the night.





	Haunted

**Author's Note:**

> Takes a few liberties with the timeline to ensure that Tara's 18 (and so is Faith) before Faith gets to Sunnydale.

Faith doesn't know what she's doing here; the word "ghost" isn't in the "vampire slayer" job description, and it's not like she can kill the fucking thing even if it's actually there. She doesn't believe it is, really, because this is a fucked-up inbred hillbilly town, and she bets people here see a lot of things that aren't there. The number of Jesus-fish on the back of Ford pickups (right next to the decals of Calvin pissing on the Chevy logo) is enough proof of that for her.  
  
So there's probably no ghost, no matter what she heard at that party she crashed last night (just long enough to lift a couple of wallets), and even if there is, she can't exactly stake it or slit its throat. She's not supposed to have to figure out  _how_  to kill things; she's just supposed to  _do_  it, and she's good at that. The figuring out is for Wa--is for other people, and since there aren't any other people, Faith sticks to vampires and demons and other things she already knows how to get rid of.  
  
But the so-called haunted house is definitely abandoned; broken glass from shattered windowpanes crunches under her feet, and Faith makes a mental note to steal a decent pair of boots from somewhere, first chance she gets.  
  
Right now, though, ghost or not, this looks like a decent place to spend the night, and there's a can of cold Beefaroni in Faith's backpack, calling her name.  
  


***

  
  
Turns out the house isn't as abandoned as Faith thinks. She still hasn't seen a sign of the ghost, but someone's been in one of the bedrooms upstairs. Faith finds white taper candles, stuck in gobs of wax on aluminum pie plates; when Faith touches them, the wax at the top is still soft and warm. There's a box of colored chalk and a half-finished chalk drawing on the floor--Faith doesn't recognize the symbols, but she can tell mystical shit when she sees it; there's some leaves burning in another pie plate, a smell Faith can't identify but which makes her want a turkey sandwich, for some reason.  
  
Okay. Somebody's here doing woo-woo magic crap, probably--the chances of running into someone  _here_  who knows enough about real magic to be dangerous to a Slayer is slim to none, if you ask Faith--and so she's not worried. Curious, but not worried. There's nowhere in the room to hide, so Faith yanks open the closet door, smirking when she sees the girl pressing herself against the back wall.  
  
She's maybe Faith's age, maybe a year or so either way, and she's wearing a long skirt and a long-sleeved sweater, both some nondescript brownish color that makes Faith think she's trying to make herself invisible.  
  
Faith doesn't get invisibility, and doesn't plan to start trying to understand it now, so she just smirks at the girl. "Planning to come out now, or are you scared the ghost will eat you?"  
  


***

  
  
There is a ghost, after all, but she--Tara insists that it's a "she," and Faith figures Tara's the local, she might know--has been alone for so long that she's faded to almost nothing. She's just a cold spot in the upstairs bathroom, a whisper at the back of Faith's mind, something that makes Faith feel like crying.  
  
Faith doesn't fucking cry, so she gets out of the bathroom as fast as she can. Tara follows a few seconds later, but she doesn't say anything until they're back in the bedroom with all of Tara's stuff. "I--I was trying to give her more energy," she says. "I t-thought if I knew why she's here, I could help her." She looks at the floor while she talks, her hair falling around her face in a dirty-blonde curtain.   
  
Faith snorts. "Playing around with that stuff's just going to get you in trouble," she says, because her W-- because she's heard that before, when someone back home called up a demon and Faith had to kill it.  
  
Tara looks up at her, and she's not stuttering when she says, "I know what I'm doing."  
  
Faith almost believes her, but then she remembers that knowing stuff doesn't keep you alive. "You oughta go home," she says. "I don't want somebody coming looking for you and finding me instead."  
  
"N-nobody's going to come looking," Tara says; she's back to not looking at Faith, and for a second, Faith is almost sorry about that.  
  


***

  
  
"Everybody has secrets," Faith says through a mouthful of the pimento cheese sandwich Tara gave her. She offered to share the Beefaroni, but Tara took one look at the bits of orange grease congealed at the top and shook her head.  
  
The sandwiches are homemade; maybe Tara's not going to go hungry if she doesn't eat this stuff, after all.  
  
Tara shakes her head, looking alarmed. "I d-don't." Her stutter had almost disappeared earlier, but now it's back, and she's back to being no-eye-contact girl. Faith's seen plenty of kids like her in her life; people are fucked-up. That's not Faith's problem.  
  
She smirks, though, because she knows damn well what Tara's trying to hide. "You do," she says. "I'm not stupid." Tara's eyes get wider, and then Faith says, "I can see how you've been looking at me." She's used to it; she gets that look from lots of guys and some girls. It's not a problem, especially not now that Faith can beat the shit out of anyone who gets too close without permission. Mostly, she gives permission, because it gets her food and money and a place to sleep, and sometimes it's fun.  
  
She's not looking to beat the shit out of Tara, and Tara already gave her a sandwich. But it could be fun.  
  
Tara laughs when Faith says that, though, and damned if she doesn't look relieved. "That's not a secret," she says, and crawls across the four feet of floor between her and Faith.  
  


***

  
  
Tara dresses like a trainee nun, but she's done this before; her mouth is hot and sure against Faith's, and her hand slides under Faith's shirt without hesitation. Faith enjoys it for a second before she decides it's time she makes it clear who's boss.   
  
Tara seems to be okay with that, with Faith twisting out from under her and moving to straddle Tara's lap, pulling Tara's shirt over her head. Tara's breasts are soft and warm, spilling over the cups of a plain white bra, and Faith unhooks the clasp, bending her head down to cover one nipple with her mouth.  
  
Tara whimpers, and Faith grins. This isn't what she expected when she decided to crash here, but it'll pass the time.  
  
She expects Tara to stop her soon, but when Faith pushes up Tara's skirt and slides her hand into the damp heat between Tara's legs, all she does is gasp and shift forward, pushing herself against Faith's fingers.  
  
Faith slips her fingers under Tara's panties, finding Tara wet and ready for her. Faith's wet, herself, and she's already planning how to get Tara's mouth on her. From the way Tara whines when Faith's fingers twist inside her, Faith's thinking it won't be too hard.  
  
From the direction of the ghost's bathroom, Faith can hear someone crying; the voice sounds familiar, even though Faith knows it can't be. She rubs Tara's clit with her thumb, making the other girl moan, and then she can't hear it any more.  
  


***

  
  
"I should go," Tara says; the moon's high in the sky, shining through the cracked window, and once she's put her shirt back on and smoothed her skirt, it looks like nothing's been happening.  
  
Faith squirms back into her jeans, buttoning them up, and shrugs. "Go ahead," she says.  
  
"Are you going to stay here all night?"  
  
"It's as good a place as any," she says. She can ignore the sound of the ghost crying in the bathroom. It doesn't sound like anybody she knows.  
  
"You'll be okay?" Then, biting her lip, Tara says, "The ghost. She won't hurt you, but she--" She shakes her head. "She sounds like my mom, sometimes, and people say she can--"  
  
"Sounds like a ghost to me," Faith says, "and I'm not scared of something that can't even touch me."  
  
Tara nods. "Okay," she says. "If you're here in the morning--" she begins, and then trails off.  
  
"No time," Faith says, even though she's tempted to say she'll stay, at least long enough to let Tara bring her something else to eat, and maybe to push Tara against the wall and get her to make those needy, breathy moans again.  
  
She needs to get going, though. "You should get the hell out of this town," she says; she doesn't  _mean_  for it to sound like she's asking Tara to come with her; it just happens that way. All she means is that if somebody, something, does come looking for Faith, Tara might get in the way. And besides, Faith doesn't like to think of anybody stuck here in this fucking wide spot in the road.  
  
"I'm g-going," Tara says, biting her lip. "After graduation. I'm going to California, to college."  
  
California, Faith thinks, suddenly, remembering stuff she'd only half-paid attention to at the time. The other Slayer, she's in California, and she won't be alone; there'll be someone there who knows what Faith ought to be doing now. That's where she should be going. That's where she'll belong.  
  
She kisses Tara, fast and hard, tasting herself on the other girl's mouth; then she grabs her backpack from the floor. "Gotta hit the road," she says, and if Tara thinks that means Faith's scared of the ghost after all, well, that's not Faith's problem.

**Author's Note:**

> [me on tumblr](https://mireille719.tumblr.com)


End file.
